


.smoke rings.

by hexhomra



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Explicit Language, Highschool AU, How Do I Tag, I promise, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kinda, M/M, OOC, Older, Slow Burn, brendon seems like an ass but he is just tired, everyone else is old, frank wants to fucking die, frankie is tired of everyone, i feel like all of my tags say kinda, i mean frank is 17 but he just graduated, iDK tho, it says the r-slur like once, lol, not like OLD, or do i, ryan and brendon are like together but its not a plot point, so like kinda, they also own a bar, they get together eventually, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 07:15:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18516544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexhomra/pseuds/hexhomra
Summary: Frank needs a way to deal with the shit that life has dealt him.It's good I promise read itTitle from Frank Iero and the Celebration's record StomachachesThis is my first MCR fic and its prolly OOC be nice to me





	.smoke rings.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't edit bc I'm lazy I leave it up to Grammarly lol. 
> 
> KUDOS AND COMMENTS ARE KING 
> 
> please, I need validation.

Frank Iero had been through a lot in his short life span. He spent most of his time nowadays sitting at a bar across from the sketchiest car wash Frank had ever seen. He was underage but he didn't care and neither did the bartenders. They were people that Frank had become friends with. There were only two of them there ever, Frank discovered last fall that they had taken the bar from Brendon's father after he had died a few years ago. Brendon and Ryan were the names of the bartenders. They were dating??? Married?? Frank didn’t ask and they didn’t tell. But from the stolen kisses that Frank had witnessed when they let him stay after final call one night, he assumed they were dating because Frank never saw any rings. But it wouldn’t be a surprise to find out that they were married. Frank wouldn’t wear his wedding ring either if he was married. I mean look at the side of town that they were on. Frank was pretty sure that the “car wash” across the street wasn’t a car wash at all. He had never seen someone go anywhere near that place with a dirty car. There was always shiny black Cadillacs showing up for undetermined amounts of time before they would dump suspicious looking bags into their trunks and driving away, their cars no shinier than they were when they arrived.

“Hey kid,” Brendon said drawing Frank from his thoughts. Frank looked away from the bright window of the bar. His vision turning an odd shade of green when he met Brendon's gaze.

“Hey, Brendon,” Frank replied. It wasn’t odd of the bartenders to make conversation with Frank, he did spend most of his time here.

“You know that we opened 20 minutes ago and you have consumed at least 5 Rum and Cokes,” Brendon said, concern creasing his usually soft features.

“Yup.” Frank returned. He looked dull. His eyes were blank.

“You okay?”

“No.” Frank shot back taking another long sip of his drink.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Fuck no,” Frank replied shortly.

“Well I’m not going to push it but just so you know Ryan is in the back if you want to talk in private, and I am always… around.” He glanced over to the door behind the bar. Frank was allowed free range of the bar. He had gained the nickname kid from Brendon and Ryan, they both knew he was way too young to even in a bar much less drinking up all of their liquor on a Monday night. They didn't seem to care so neither did Frank.

“Thanks, Brendon,”

\---

Quite a few hours had passed and it was getting late for Frank to still be sitting on the same hard barstool that he was seated at when the bar opened at 4 pm.

Frank made a move to stand up, that is when all of the liquor he had consumed over the last couple of hours had caught up to him. Frank looked down at the floor, it looked like it was swaying. His attempts to make it another few steps to the door were cut short by him running face first into someone's chest.

“I knew I should have cut you off.” Brendon, he had run into Brendon. Frank let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Come on kid, you aren’t going home like this,”

Before Franks head could catch up with his feet he was being dragged into the office that was behind the counter. As soon as Franks' eyes caught view of the soft looking couch pushed into the corner of the room he knew he was done for. He wrenched his wrist from Brendon's grip and made a dive for the couch. He could hear the soft chuckling of Ryan and Brendon as his stomach made contact with the soft fabric of the couch.

He could hear Brendon and Ryan softly talking behind him. Frank was too far gone to be able to know what they were saying, and he was far too comfy to sit up and ask what they were talking about. So he let his mind wander. Wander to what had landed him in a bar at 4 pm on a Monday.

His mother.

Now don’t get Frank wrong he loved his mother most of the time. But, there were certain days when she would just go crazy. Like today, or yesterday whatever. She thought that Frank was skipping class because he was at home. He wasn't. It's June. Therefore summer break. Therefore Frank graduated a month ago. Frank has been attempting to move out ever since he graduated last month but every time he gets boxes and begins to pack his things his mother goes manic and screams at him until he just leaves. Whenever he arrives back his items are neatly placed back where they were before he started packing.

As much as Frank loved his mother she is killing him. He needs out and so he goes out, he drinks until he vomits and then drinks some more. In his mind, it would be better to die from alcohol poisoning than spend more than a few hours in that house.

During his mental rant, Frank must have passed out because the next thing that he knows he is being shaken awake by Ryan.

“Frank, Frankie, its time to get up,” Ryan said gently shaking Franks' shoulder.

“Mmmmm” Frank groans, “Whyyy?”

“Because it's 3:30 pm and the bar opens in a half an hour,” Ryan says. His voice is soft, Frank has no other way to describe it but soft.

“Okay,” Frank says and rolls back over on the couch.

“Nope Frankie, You really gotta get up.”

“Why? It’s not like anyone is ever back here.”

“Actually that is where you are wrong. One of our friends-” Franks hears a cough from behind Ryan, “ He is a friend shut the fuck up Brendon. Anyways one of our friends is coming to visit and he is not going to sit in the bar.”

“Why the fuck can’t he sit in the bar?” Frank asks still not moving from his spot nuzzled into the corner of the couch.

“I don’t fucking know. Gerard is a prissy bitch who only does things to spite us.” Brendon interjects.

“Shut the fuck up Brendon.” Ryan shoots back.

There is silence for a minute. “Please stop making out good fucking god,” Frank shouts, voice muffled by his arm.

"Damn Frankie this is our bar and you are sleeping on our couch. Remember?" Brendon says. It was clearly a rhetorical question.

"Wow, Bren didn't know that this was YOUR bar... all this time I thought it was owned by the cokeheads across the street. Crazy." Frank retorts voice dripping with sarcasm.

Just before Brendon could make another smart ass comment back at Frank the bell on the door sounds warning all three men that someone was there to visit them.

"Fuck Gerard is here," Ryan swears.

"I'm sure he won't mind a homeless looking boy napping on your couch," Frank says making no movements to get up and leave.

“Fuck okay whatever I’m sure it will be fine,” Brendon says as he leaves the room.

Moments later Ryan also leaves the room. Presumably to talk to this Gerard guy. First of all who in their right fucking mind would name a kid Gerard. That just sounds like you should just paint a target on his back that says “Bully me. My name is retarded”

Frank laughed to himself. He could almost hear his chuckle bounce off the walls of the empty room. It was silent it was nice. It took the silence to make Frank realize how bad his head was throbbing. Frank groaned and rolled over in hopes of seeing something to help his head. Just to his luck Ryan and Brendon were prepared. There was a bottle of water and an Advil waiting for him on an empty bar stool.

Frank slowly sat up from his lying position on the couch. Even with his slow movements the blood rushing to head made the throbbing worse. He quickly grabbed the Advil and put it in his mouth. He grabbed the water bottle and turned the lid, Brendon and Ryan were much more prepared than he thought because the seal of the lid was cracked so he didn’t have to work too hard to open it.

Immediately after swallowing the cold water and the Advil his head felt better. There is no fucking way that Advil is that strong so it must have just been a mental thing. Whatever the fuck happened Frank felt better.

Then a knock sounded at the door to the back room.

“Hey Frankie, you got your pants on?” Brendon teased from the other side of the door.

Frank looked down, he was indeed wearing his pants. “Fuck off Bren,” Frank shouted towards the door.

“Imma take that as a yes then,” Brendon said opening the door.

Frank looked up when he heard the door open. Both Brendon and Ryan made their way into the room leaving their friend, to stand at the door awkwardly. Frank looked him up and down. He was hot. He was wearing black jeans and some sort of old fucking band shirt. His hair was long and black, it hung in front of his face in strands. Shit, he was really hot.

“Hey, didn't think that this would be so awkward. Frank this is Gerard, Gerard, Frank.” Ryan said, breaking the silence.


End file.
